


such a cruel love (loving you)

by Ephemeral_Joy



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Break Up, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29549874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephemeral_Joy/pseuds/Ephemeral_Joy
Summary: Julie and Luke break up.She has forty-eight hours to figure out what she really wants and answer herself the question: "Is loving someone enough?"
Relationships: Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 44
Kudos: 123





	such a cruel love (loving you)

**Author's Note:**

> i've been in a pit of self-loathing about my writing ever since i finished "i've got this crazy feeling", only now realising that all i had to do was write angst. this is where i feel good. too much fluff hurts the soul. 
> 
> edited | not beta'd | title: fools love // gabrielle aplin | my cursed tumblr: @lydias--stiles | special thanks to the vegan pecan baked goods from the bakery across my apartment, the MVP that kept me going

“Flynn?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Julie swallowed, turning into a different lane with a frown. Her brain was fuzzy; she didn’t even remember typing in Flynn’s number and putting her on speaker. “I, uh… Luke and I just broke up and-” Her breath got caught in her throat. “I don’t- I don’t-”

“Julie,” she rushed, “Where are-?”  
  
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she continued, not hearing her friend’s worried tone. She wasn’t hearing anything. Driving on autopilot through the suburbs and waiting for the dam to break, for that crash to come, the earthquake to shatter her ribs and take away the ache that would inevitably consume her. A sob choked her words. “I don’t know where I’m going, I’m just-”

Flynn’s voice became louder. “Julie, you need to breathe. Can you pull over?” 

She shook her head. “No! No, I need- I _need_ to drive right now, but I… I don’t know what happened, Flynn.” Her voice broke, thick and squeaky and the first wave of tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know what- we were talking and then I just-”

They just snapped. He’d been too into the attention of groupies and she’d been too standoff-ish and all of a sudden they were on opposing sides of the room. Not partners, not even rivals. She had been yelling at a stranger. Then Luke left, enraged, and it took her a whole two minutes to realise what she said. 

_“I don’t wanna be together with you anymore! Ever! Just fucking leave!”_

Her car drove itself onto the highway, parallel to the wild Pacific ocean and its blearing sunlight. Julie was never particularly fond of driving nor has she been here before, but the unfamiliarity helped her maintain that last shred of sanity. If just one thing reminded her of Luke, she’d break. 

“Whatever happened,” Flynn muttered after a beat. She’d already forgotten she was there. “I’m sure you guys can figure it out. You’re Julie and Luke.”

A bitter laugh bubbled up. The label sounded fake already: there was no ‘Julie and Luke’ to discuss. “Not anymore.”

Another long pause. There had to be noise or else the tears would spill. “I’m driving past the beach right now.”

“Okay. Good. Fresh air, that’s good. That’s great! Do I need to beat his ass instead?”

“No,” she sobbed. Her face twisted into an ugly scowl, lips blubbering as her chest shook with uneven breaths. “Cause that would make it real. That would- I didn’t want to break up, Flynn. I really didn’t. I messed up.”

Her fingers clenched around the wheel, knuckles a sickly pale colour.

Like all great love stories, Julie met Luke at a bar when she was eighteen and perhaps a little too naive. She was charmed by his smile and he by her wit and both fell fast and hard. It was difficult not to. Their relationship, though not perfect, had always been balanced out by their insane musical connection that could transcend any problems they had. Until it didn’t. But for four beautiful years, the art was worth the pain. 

The pain, as in Luke’s arrogance getting the better of him. The pain, as in Julie pushing away anyone that cared too much _(they’ll disappear in the end,_ her mind would whisper, _they always do)._ The pain, a cocktail of those two elements and a whole lot of other minor things stacking itself into a precarious tower of Jenga. Had it not been them pushing it over, it would’ve been their cat. (Fuck. Who would keep Bowie?)

She didn’t know how it all happened. Everyone, including them, thought they were this amazing couple that communicated without a hitch and had it all figured out. They were ‘Julie and Luke’ - the fucking couple brought together by fate, or whatever Reggie loved to babble about on drunken nights. Maybe it was the week-old dishes in the sink, her shoes scattered throughout the apartment, his smoking habit he never quite got rid of. It always left a pit of disappointment when he went in for a kiss and she tasted how the cigarette tainted his lips. Then again, was she allowed to bitch about that when she had manic writing spirals that kept her shackled to her desk and not interact with the world of the living?

But she always thought they’d work through it. And then she broke it off. What the actual fuck. 

“He was so mad,” she whispered, struck by the memory of his face. “He was so mad, I made him so… mad. You should’ve seen him, Flynn. You- he was so mad.”

“Luke never stays mad long,” she reasoned. “Not at you, at least.”

“No, this is… this is permanent. You weren’t there, you don’t know what he said or _how_ he said it.” Frustrated by Flynn’s lax attitude, she stressed each word with punch. “I- I can’t _fix_ this. I don’t know what to do. I don’t- I don’t even know where I am.”

“The beach, Jules.”

“I don’t know what beach.” And then her face crumpled. “We were supposed to go to the beach this weekend. We made plans, we-”

The car stopped. A anguished wail erupted from her throat as her head fell on the wheel. Each bone and muscle and atom in her body hurt. Everything hurt, like she was being pulled on her limbs until her skin ripped apart. Until all that was left was her heart, beating, but with no one to beat for. She finally started crying, uncontrollably at a speed she’d admire if it wasn’t her going through it. Her body curled into itself, jaw slack as she tried to take breaths, new cries tumbling out instead

Had she been a bit more aware of her surroundings, she’d now that stopping in the middle of the road was a dangerous game, but Luke was an all-encompassing force. He wasn’t here. He should be here in her car. But he wasn’t, because they broke up. _Because of her._

They planned to go to the beach this weekend. Life had been busy and they decided two days ago that they should have a moment to unwind. They’d surf (both having picked up the hobby three years ago) and get food from their favourite shack and sunbathe and have an overall good time. That had been the plan: “Let’s have a good time, Jules.”

Two days ago, the thought of breaking up hadn’t even crossed his mind. All she thought then was how right he was, how much she loved him. How proud she was of them for making this relationship work despite their young age. So foolish. She was so stupid. 

“Julie, you can’t be stationary on the road-”

“How do you know?!”, she yelled amidst her sobs, frenzied and high-pitched. 

Flynn sigh’s crackled the receiver. “A hunch. Please park somewhere. Maybe sit on the beach. Take a breathe.”

Her shaky hands tried to find solid grasp on the wheel. God, she fucking hated driving. Luke loved driving. He loved driving with her and letting her fiddle with the radio and find a song she knew they both liked and play it really loud and then she’d open the windows and he’d laugh and- and now he wasn’t hers. 

Julie whimpered. “Please come. Please.”

They would be surfing and then after, he’d shake the water from his hair onto her as a tease and she’d squeal and tell him he was an idiot and then he’d say she loved it and then she’d grab his neck and he her butt and they’d kiss each other the way they liked it. She’d find sand behind his ear in the evening, when they would make pesto pasta and pass the bottle of wine between their lips and the pan. They would continue their rewatch of Brooklyn Nine-Nine after, curled into each other and inevitably falling asleep on the couch until Luke put them both to bed; her sprawled on top of him. Maybe they’d have morning sex. But only if their muscles weren’t killing them.

They were supposed to do all of that today. 

“When you’re parked, drop your location. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Eventually, Julie found the strength to start the car again and drive to the nearest car park. Though it was the weekend, the beach was pretty desolate. She still had no idea where she was. Away from tourists and recognisable landmarks, she felt alone in the universe. 

(“I wouldn’t recommend that one,” she quipped, wandering off from her conversation with Flynn and Kayla to talk to the cute guy three stools away from her. “It tastes really bad.”

He looked down at his beer, puzzled, then back to her. “Yeah? What’re you suggesting?” 

She smiled. “Anything that isn’t beer. Poor judgement.”

The stranger caught on, eyes tracing her frame for a beat before sliding closer with a smirk. “Gotta say, I haven’t heard that one before.”

“What before?” She tilted her head, daring him to call her out on her flirting ten seconds into talking. Her skin was buzzing with delight when his grin widened and he stretched his hand out. 

“I’m Luke.”

“Julie.”) 

Flynn dropped down on the sand next to her. Julie’s arms were wrapped around her knees, blurred gaze fixed on the unending horizon. She has stopped crying, for now, and hoped it would stay that way. Quietly, her head dropped on her friend’s shoulder, Flynn slipping an arm around her. Julie knew she wanted to say a whole lot - about Luke, about her, about the relationship, maybe even a half-baked comment that she deserved better or that she would soon be okay again - and appreciated when she didn’t. 

After minutes (hours?) of silence, Flynn said: “You’re in Point Dume. Malibu.”

Her lip tugged on instinct. “Point doom?”

“Glad you haven’t lost your sense of humour,” she retorted lightly. 

Julie paused, pressing her mouth together. “It’s to cope.”

“I know.” And then- “But it took you a year to smile again last time you felt like this, so I know you’ll be alright. You’re not lost. You’re in Point Dume.”

The sun melted with the horizon by the time the two girls stood up and walked back to their cars. Julie wished Flynn could be with her, but she knew she couldn’t abandon her car in some random lot hours from her apartment. Her friend promised she’d be right in front of her, leading her to her place, so all she had to do was drive and not think too much. 

Flynn’s apartment was quite spacious for being a one bedroom. Sleek kitchen, big blush pink couch, a wall decked as a hat display, a rattan room divider with her bed behind it. Julie crawled in without a word. Numb, she stared at the ceiling, following the faint cracks and lines until it was one web and didn’t look real anymore. Flynn didn’t come, quietly tinkering around in her kitchen and joining her an hour later. She hugged her until the heartbroken girl fell asleep. It took a while. 

(Her flirting was supposed to get her a one night stand. Instead, she stood half-dressed in his small bedroom as he played the guitar and her slurring mouth was freestyling. In that moment, it sounded like God’s Gift To Music. They had been making out when he casually mentioned he was in a band, to which she told him she was a singer, which resulted in the sex they promised to be exchanged for a jam session at three in the morning. One of his roommates slammed his hand against the shared wall, yelling that Luke should try to be normal for once and just have sex without roping music into the situation. Julie giggled, emboldened by the roommate to move Luke’s guitar out of the way and climb back on his lap. When he pleaded her to continue singing afterwards, she said yes. Neither realised they agreed to another date. Neither realised how easy it was to fall in love.)

She woke up clawing at her stomach to find his hand. Her nose tried picking up his smell, his lingering cologne. Their sheets that moved a certain way, her body moving on its own accord to roll into his own, and instead being awoken in shock when she felt a cold spot. These weren’t her sheets. The paisley patterned ones were Flynn’s. Her lip wobbled. Secretly, Julie hated paisley. She didn’t want to sleep in a bed with sheets that she hated. She wanted to sleep in her bed, with Luke, with him on the other side so that she could roll into him and have him place a sleepy kiss on whatever skin he could find. A salty tear trickled down her cheek. Her head was pounding.

Flynn’s shadow was dancing behind the divider, the faint whirring of her coffee maker heard. The wide windows were open, fresh air drifting inside and cooling down the wetness on her face. It clung. It felt wrong. Flynn appeared, two cups in hand. 

“Luke called me,” she whispered. “Wanted to know where you were. He went back to your apartment yesterday evening.”

Julie stared into the brown, wondering if coffee had the same effect as tea leaves, if her future was hidden at the bottom, holding the answers to her worries. “Did you- what did you say?” Her face contorted at the sound of her voice. It was rough, almost gone, and pricked needles into her throat.

Flynn sat down, tentative. “That you’re here. And that you two should talk it out.”

“Flynn-”

“Doesn’t matter what that means,” she added. “But you can’t end a relationship on a fight. Not when you live together and have a co-dependant cat that’s probably plotting to murder Luke cause you’re not there right now.”

She chuckled, taking a sip. “You think Bowie would do that for me?”

“Julie.”

“I can't do it right now,” she whimpered, suddenly no longer an appetite for coffee. “I don’t think I can be in the same room as him and- I can’t talk to him without crying. Or screaming. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

A heavy pause settled between them. Julie couldn’t look at her. Flynn was so much braver than her; it was something she has always been envious of. When Flynn broke up with Carrie, she went to the blonde’s apartment the next day with a tough face and the bold exclaim that she wanted her stuff back - pronto. It was the most badass thing Julie has ever seen. Flynn spit in the face of adversity and she felt embarrassed how she was the total opposite of that. Julie needed _time._ To think, to mourn, to plan. Had Flynn broken up with Luke, no one would notice something was off. She certainly wouldn’t drive like a maniac across California. 

Then again, Flynn never lived with Carrie. Nor did they have cat. Nor did they talk about a future with a house and kids and eternal happiness. Flynn never said Carrie was The One. Julie did. Julie wholeheartedly believed six months into dating that Luke was her soulmate. 

Flynn nodded. “Whatever you’ll do, I support you… do you want my opinion?”

Julie finally met her eye. Cautiously, she hummed for her friend to continue. Just like she was brave, she never beat around the bush. Straight through the wildfire - that was Flynn.

“Maybe,” she mused, “this is good. Maybe it’s a sign. You’ve been with him for four years.”

Her face turned sour. “I _want_ monogamy, Flynn.”

Her tongue clicked, clearly not scared of starting an argument. “You wanted a one night stand, _maybe_ friends with benefits. And then you fell into a very intensely committed relationship at eighteen. I’m not saying it was bad or wrong, but…”

Julie’s heart splintered at the implication. In that moment, she had rather waited for her coffee to be finished so she could fall into the trap of pseudo-science and soothe her soul with bullshit. The sour hint turned devastated, new tears welling up. Her voice was small. “Are you saying we… _outgrew_ each other?”

Flynn bit her lip. “I’m saying… that it might be good you’re out of Luke’s orbit. Maybe.”

Placing the cup on the nightstand, she fell back onto the mattress. That was not what she wanted to hear. Her palms hid the muffles cries working its way up. Her chest shuddered from the impact of each revelation ramming into her. If only Flynn knew about the gravitational pull Julie felt around Luke, how he grounded her like no one else ever could, that when their planets circled each other, there was peace. Laying between the wrong sheets had her completely off-kilter. She felt it now too. That tug to come home to him. To forgive his shitty behaviour - that he excused hers - for the desperate need of safety. If she knew him as well as she did, he felt that pull as well. He might’ve even gone to his car, keys in the ignition, to then sit there paralysed knowing Julie liked time. They knew each other so well that the ground disappearing from beneath their feet was almost farcical. 

(“Julie and Luke? They’re like two sides of the same coin,” Reggie exclaimed whenever an interviewer asked about the couple, almost exasperated from how incredible their bond was. It was a standard reply, one that told the public enough without prying for details.)

How would the universe keep expanding, how would the earth keep turning, her planet keep revolving, if Luke was out of it? It sounded impossible. 

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” she uttered. Whether Flynn heard her or not, she didn’t care. She heard herself say it and that was enough. 

The lazy Sunday was spent between the couch and the bathroom. Flynn had her own routine of going to the gym and the farmer’s market, which she encouraged her to do. Just because Julie was in the gutter, didn’t mean her best friend had to lay in the dirt with her. Begrudgingly, Flynn agreed and left. She knew where everything was, having helped Flynn move in a year ago, and easily found her way around. 

The TV was on some mindless daytime tv show, with dramatic zooms and thundering music each time someone said something snippy. It was a good distraction. Pablo’s plotline of meeting his secret twin seemed astronomically more troublesome than a dumb break-up. Her traitorous wandered during every commercial break though. Luke would be sprawled over the couch like this, it whispered, and he’d make jokes about being a better actor even though both knew he was a terrible actor. She’d entertain the idea, with that head tilt she always did, and muse about the possible arcs he’d have on a show like that. He was a cyborg, a spy, or something insane like Dallas where his death would be a season-long dream. Luke would hold her like this, kiss her like that, dip his fingers into her skin at the right spots, mumble a new tune he’s been thinking of in her ear. 

Julie turned the tv off and stared out the window instead. Pablo and his melodrama hurt too. 

It was easy to forget why she broke up with him when she felt like this. The whole groupie thing had been an ongoing problem that she repeatedly told him it made her uncomfortable. The band wasn’t huge yet, but their dedicated fanbase was, well, _dedicated._ The nasty looks she’s gotten from fangirls, peeved the front man of their favourite band was already taken. Julie never had that problem. She was a solo artist, a pop-punk singer with experimental phases. Her style was so eclectic that her fans held the music itself as a focal point. She was just coincidentally the face of said music. And she liked that. It meant, however, that she never really got bothered with admirers in the same way Luke had to. Her Instagram comments were begging for more music, not to ‘rail them hard’. 

The comments itself didn’t bother her, but it was Luke’s reaction to them that did. Though he didn’t engage online, his ego got that much bigger each time. He allowed the people to live longer in this fantasy by flirting with them after a show. “It’s harmless,” he promised her. “I’m just doing what everyone else is doing.” Even if that was true, that it meant nothing to him, it still hurt to see. 

She wondered when the hurt became too much for him. How many times did he have to say “Baby, please come to bed” before he was sick of it? Or was it when they had sex and she left right in the middle to write on her poem more? Or was it just the shoes? Did he stumble over her boots and felt such intense resentment that it signified the end before it even got announced by their shouts? 

(“Baby,” he whispered, massaging her shoulders and placing a soft kiss on her jaw. “Please come to bed.”

She shrugged him off, back bend over her notebook and eyes shadowed by dark circles and glasses. “Later. I’m inspired.”

He sighed. “You haven’t left this desk in two days.”

She hummed something, agreeing or disagreeing or indifferent, and heard him pad back to their bedroom. The door closed a little too hard. It should’ve been a sign.) 

Her phone rang. ‘Long Weekend’ blared through the quiet apartment. Julie froze, as if her phone could sense fear, and waited for it to stop. When it did, she lurched from the couch and reached for it. It was Luke. He didn’t leave a voicemail. He never did, but the lack thereof was still significant to her. Tears flowed down her face without trying to at the sight of his smile staring back at her. The picture was from their trip to Portland at a terrace of a coffee shop. He wore this cute red sweater and his hair was glossy in the sunlight and his smile had been so perfect that she had to take a photo. His eyes were intently trained on her, the green alive with affection. They were twenty then. It was after she took that picture and put her phone down that he asked her opinion about finding their own place. 

(Her fingers intertwined with his, shy. “I’ve thought about that too.” 

“Only positively, yeah?”, he teased. 

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Only positive. You don’t think we’d kill each other?”

He snorted, waving it off. “Please, you and I? We’re _solid,_ Jules. If anything’s gonna kill us, it’s going to be my cooking.”

She leaned across the table and pecked his silly grin. Her hands caressed the planes of his cheeks. “Okay,” she murmured. “Let’s do it.”) 

Her fingers roughly wiped the tears away, frustration puffing from her lips. Why did he call? Didn’t he understand she needed a day to process? Didn’t _he_ need a day? It made her sick to her stomach. What if he already got over it? What if he was _glad._ Julie fervently shook her head. That couldn’t be true. Her brain was just being cruel now. Luke loved her. Luke was in love with her. She didn’t think they ever stopped loving, but it just stopped _working._

That was worse than a spiteful break-up, Julie believed. At least then you’d feel vengeful or prideful or ready to fall into a string of rebounds. Which, really, was also just a guess. Luke had been her third boyfriend and her first serious one. She had no clue how other, normal relationships went, only knew the blueprint of theirs. It was the same for Luke. He was a serial flirt in high school and then fell into Julie the summer before their gap years started. (An excuse they convinced both their families of. It was a coincidence, obviously, but to eighteen year old Julie it felt like fate. Neither went to college after the gap year, too involved in their respective music careers by then.) 

She didn’t know what would happen when she saw him tomorrow. At worst: break-up sex. At best: an amicable conversation. An unattractive snort blew from her nose. _An amicable conversation_ \- what a joke. They fought like wolves. 

Flynn came back, nets of fruits and veggies in her hands. A toothy grin bloomed on her lips despite how horrible Julie looked. “I got peaches! Your favourite!”

“You’re a goddess,” Julie sighed, trying to suppress the memory of all times Luke surprised her with peaches. 

(Whipping his ass with the dish towel, he yelped out the way. “Jules!”  
  
She slid up to him with a giggle, draping her arms around his waist. “You have a peach butt, you know that?”

“A _peach_ butt,” he mused, biting down the grin. “My butt is your fav fruit?”

A playful hum reached his lips, warm. “Mh, yeah. You have a cute butt.”

His eyes stayed closed, content, keeping his mouth brushed against her own. “You have a cute everything.”)

Picking a peach from the net, she pressed her thumbs in the fuzzy skin. She didn’t want to pull Flynn back into her dark cloud, but she had to tell someone. “Luke called.”

She frowned, sitting down. “I told him not to call you.”

Her heart jumped. Luke wouldn’t admit it, but he was kind of intimidated by Flynn. If she told him to _not_ do something, he usually complied. Did that mean he wanted to fix it? Resolve it? 

“Did you-”

“No.” Her eyes fall on her phone, face down to resist temptation. “I let it ring.”

Back when she and Luke were in the first weeks of dating, they texted constantly. It was weird; there were no games or someone trying to act aloof. Hours of conversations flowed well into the night about everything under the sun. They talked about her mom, his estranged parents, their passions, secrets they hadn’t shared with anyone else. Their first real date was at Eats & Beats and he instantly asked what her favourite colour was. Blue, she said. His smile had been blinding, saying that he had known everything about her _but_ her colour. 

The thrill of being liked, of liking someone, of both knowing it was _more_ from that first date. How could she explain that to someone and not be perceived as a ditz? 

Julie watched as Flynn’s face shifted into one of careful deliberation. An onslaught was about to come, probably something she thought of while running errands. Julie clenched her jaw, preparing herself.

Then she said it - softly, yet determined. “Do you know what you’ll do? Like, what you want? Because you said you didn’t mean to break up, but you’ve told me about the whole groupie thing…”

Her reply was instinctual. “Yes, but I know he loves me.”

“But is loving enough?”

(The sun hung low on the horizon, the world awakening in colours of pinks and reds, like bleeding pomegranate speckled in the sky and reflected onto the azure water. Julie and Luke were on their surfboards, quiet, patiently waiting for the next big wave. Drifting side by side, Julie felt completely at ease. This was what life was all about. Waking up early, catching a wave and then make breakfast with the love of your life. It wasn’t how she planned for life to go - she should be a senior in college now - and yet she wouldn’t exchange it for anything in the world. This was exactly where she was supposed to be. 

In the distance, a wave built. 

Her head turned to look at his profile. His serene smile, the sunkissed skin, still as boyish as the eighteen year old she met at the bar but also very much a different person. Luke wasn’t the same Luke. It made her realise that she wasn’t the same Julie either. That she’s changed without noticing, in ways that all lead to this moment.

She voiced her thought. “Do you think we’ve changed?”

Luke caught her pensive gaze. “What d’you mean?”

“If we’ve changed.” The wave got bigger. They had to start paddling soon. “We’re still us, but we’re also…”

“Not,” he finished. Her nod was small. She felt an uncomfortable twist in her stomach. “Yeah, I guess- I guess we’ve changed. For the better, I think.”

“We make each other better,” she said. It sounded unconvincing. Luke picked up on it, his brows knitting together and mouth shaping to say something, when the wave began to roar. 

The topic was dropped. Julie paddled into the force of nature and jumped up, the thrill of riding the ocean pushing the worry to the back of her mind. 

It resurged tenfold after surfing when he grabbed her wrist while she squeezed the water out of her hair. She looked up, his troublesome eyes flicking across her face. Whatever he searched for, he didn’t say. His fingers trailed up to swipe the droplets from her brow. 

“You know I love you, right?”

Julie smiled and chastely kissed his seasalt lips. “Of course, I do. I love you too.”) 

The anguished girl sprung up from the couch, knees heavy. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, that’s why I’m not calling him back, that’s why I’m-!” Her eyes shut tight, voice raw and angry tears pouring out. The words came in jolts. “-I’m _here_ and _not_ there, even though I really _really_ want to be!” 

Julie continued before Flynn could. “I don’t know if loving is enough. I don’t know how to make sense of all this bullshit, I just feel like- like we’ve been living in this bubble and I’m so angry at myself for not seeing it sooner. I’m so angry! I wish we yelled at each other sooner - or anything!” She threw the peach onto the couch. “I wish that the fights we did have, went somewhere.”

(“Baby,-” Luke rushed in after her, the front door slamming shut. They’ve forgotten to turn the lights in their bedroom off, a faint glow amidst the pitch black of the night. He stumbled over her sneakers.   
  
“Don’t ‘baby’ me!” Julie flailed her arms around, livid. “Not when you called all those fangirls ‘babe’ just thirty minutes ago!”  
  
Luke grabbed onto her shoulders. “Julie, you _know_ that’s for show. You know I’m just playing it up. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Do I know that?”, she scoffed. “How do I know it means anything whenever you’re saying it to me?” 

“I-” Blinking at her incredulously, his grip tightened. “What? What kind of question is that? Cause I love you. _Of course_ I mean it when I call you ‘baby’!”

Julie crossed her arms. “I just don’t like it.”

His lips curled into hurt scowl. “Why don’t you trust me?”

“I do!”

“You don’t,” he grimaced. “You don’t trust me.”

“I do,” she bit, her voice instantly mellowing when the fright of arguing caught up with her. It was two in the morning, they were exhausted and emotional, this wasn’t the right time to have this conversation. The tension dropped from her shoulders, her soft touch slipping up his chest. “I do,” she said again. “I trust you… I just wish you wouldn’t…” 

His forehead pressed against hers with a sigh. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he uttered. When she didn’t reply, unsure if anything she’d say would help them, he kissed her pout away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? We can discuss it later.”)

“I wish-!” Julie groaned, her jerky movements all of a sudden taking her to the front door, stuffing her feet in her shoes and throwing her jacket on. Her face has gone numb from the constant wetness staining the skin. 

A confused Flynn called out for her. “Where are your going?”

“Out,” she breathed. “I can’t- I’ll be back soon.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, throwing the door shut and trying to choke back a sob when it eerily sounded like the times Luke did it. 

Luke was the perfect guy. He had no qualms showering her with affection, he was intimate and passionate and assertive and loved life with his entire chest. When he did something, he went for it five hundred percent. He loved learning new things and exploring and loved doing it with her. He allowed her to be the same, not any of that emasculating bullshit. He let her take care of him. They were equals. A team. 

The only he thing he lacked was processing his emotions in a healthy way. She wasn’t a champ at it either, but at least she talked about it; slamming doors retired when she was seventeen. Whenever Luke got mad at her, cupboards opened and closed in a rough manner, doors hit the frame harder. It was a telltale sign for her and knew to diffuse it at some point, but it was unnerving that after all these years he still hadn’t found a way to be confrontational. Getting in another guy’s face at a bar? No problem. Getting in her face when she unintentionally angered him? It was as if he was scared of even looking at her then. Julie knew he wouldn’t hurt her, so it probably hurt double as much that he never took a chance. Sometimes, she told him outright: “You know you can talk to me, right?”

But maybe, she has been missing certain puzzle pieces. Maybe, she hasn’t seen the bigger picture. Maybe, she has been so in her head and he’s _been_ trying, but she wasn’t looking. Not at the right times, at least. 

Julie walked down the pavement into the bustling cityscape of downtown LA. There wasn’t anywhere in particular she wanted to go (nor would anyone let her inside when she looked like a total wreck), but maybe it would help seeing the faces of strangers. Of knowing she wasn’t alone. That the universe, even when it seemed like it, did not revolve around Planet Luke and Planet Julie. It was fine at first. Throngs of teenagers hanging out, families eating lunch on the sundrenched terraces, people flitting in and out of stores, more shopping bags than the last, Instagrammers posing in front of a fountain. A few recognised her, but she was lucky none approached her. She must look scary. 

It stopped being fine when she turned the corner and heard music. A busker, about her age, playing his acoustic guitar as he covered a Billy Joel song. His raspy timbre sang the words to ‘It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me’, rocking on his heels and clearly enjoying himself. Onlookers stopped to listen, heads nodding in appreciation. Julie was frozen. Fucking hell, the world didn’t revolve around her but it was trying _really_ hard to convince her otherwise. 

The morning after her one night stand with Luke, she was awoken by his phone. His ringtone was that old Joel song and she found it so adorable then. Who would’ve thought this eighteen year old boy had an affinity to music like that? Instead of picking up, Luke grinned at her and mouthed the words to her. It was silly and definitely not the norm for what one did after a hook-up, but it probably solidified her gut feeling that he was a guy worth knowing. Though she was young, she had an inkling not many guys jumped out of bed and began dancing butt-naked to make her laugh. It became their song. He chose it at karaoke, she put it on whenever she felt like dancing with her boyfriend, he hyped himself up with it before concerts when she couldn’t be there to do it herself. Flynn’s eyes rolled to the back of her head when she admitted that, Kayla thought it was cute. 

Why did the busker have to sing this exact song? Of all the songs in the world, it had to be this. Couldn’t he have played ‘Vienna’, something to accompany her depressed trek? She deliberately hasn’t listened to music since the fight and it all came crumbling down now. 

Julie suppressed the urge to scowl at him and kept going. 

The first time they wrote together was like magic. They’d known each other for a month when he caught sight of her songbook and asked to make annotations. All of a sudden, they were on a fresh page bouncing ideas back and forth and crafting stories they would’ve never come up with themselves. It was new and exciting; it felt revolutionary. Experiences and virtuosity melting into a song she eventually recorded for an EP. But those stolen moments of that united hitched breath as they struck gold with a lyric or melody… it was indescribable. It added gasoline to the fire that burned between them, keenly reminded of the way he kissed her after a finished verse. 

It felt so mind-blowing then, being kissed by Luke. If only she knew it would come to feel like a comforting hug; a place to call home. It still held a spark, now deeply settled within her chest. It clung inside her heart, the rhythm finding the time to stop and make room for him. _Ba-dum, ba-dum, Luke, ba-dum._ Now leaving a gaping emptiness with each step she took. _Ba-dum, ba-dum,_ silence, _ba-dum._

(Lathering his back with soap, the stream of hot water drummed in her muscles, relieving the ache from hours of songwriting. They didn’t often shower together, but whenever their schedules were hectic, it was the place to be. 

“Don’t forget my peach butt,” he joked, breath visible in the steam. 

Julie rolled her eyes, bringing her hands down to his ass and rubbing it in. He turned around and kissed her, rough and open-mouthed. Biting down on his lip, he let out a groan. “Why is you putting soap on my butt hot?”

“Cause it’s me,” she breathed, hands in his stringy hair. Her heart was going a mile a minute, never not turned on by Luke pressing into her. _Ba-dum, ba-dum, Luke, ba-dum, ba-dum, Luke._

Luke hummed, fingers dipping into her warm skin. “Cause it’s you.” Hardly having time to react, he hoisted her up in one fluid motion. 

Her giggling words were halted with whiny gasps. “Don’t-” A kiss, a roll of the hips. “-drop-” A kiss, a grunt, a sigh. “-me.”

Tracing her jaw with wet lips and a laugh, he murmured: “Never, Jules.”

_Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, Luke, Luke, Luke, Luke, Luke, Luke.)_

Magnolia Mocha winked at her. It was a typical coffee shop, the typography on the frontage adorned with moss and flowers. Inside, it was sleek and white and wooden flooring. Most importantly, she’s never been here with Luke. She slid into a seat and ordered a coffee, the napkin tucked beneath the cup enough for her to ask for a pen. The waiter gave her one and left. Hovering above the thin sheet, her muscles tensed up from trying to not write too rapidly, too harshly. If it ripped, she’d probably start crying. 

The blue pen sunk into the napkin, the first loop of her elegant scrawl drawn. Luke might recent her for those manic episodes where all she did was write and didn't eat, sleep, move, but she needed this. To let out the rushing tides of her mind, to ride the wave and not drown. Julie wrote a song. 

_Is it love when so easily you said goodbye?_ _  
_ _Is it love when we've given up before we tried?_ _  
_ _Is it love when you stole my peace of mind?_ _  
_ _Is it love when you cry, and cry and cry?_

It was bitter and prideful and painful. It was truthful and her own unreliable mind making him into the villain when she was just as guilty as he was. But this was good. Finally, an outlet.

_So when you walk out that door_ _  
_ _Don't you come back no more_ _  
_ _My heart has had enough of the give and take_ _  
_ _And as much as I want you to stay_

(“I don’t wanna be together with you anymore!” Julie yelled her lungs out. “Ever! Just fucking leave!”

“Fine!”, he roared. “Fine! Fucking fine!”)

_You're a dangerous love_ _  
_ _Maybe you're no good for me, darling_ _  
_ _Cause if you're gonna love me and leave me hanging here_ _  
_ _Then I'd rather you leave me lonely_  
_Even though it hurts_ _  
_ Oh, you're a dangerous love

Luke and Julie have always been dangerous. What a gamble for two eighteen year olds to bet on each other, on someone they hadn’t known for long. For Luke to breathe promises between her lips and for her to answer with her own. 

(The thrum of the performance reverberated in their bodies, the vibrations linked as their arms were slung around each other. Alcohol-stained lips mouthed sultry lyrics from the singer onstage. Her mind was hazy, sharp eyes fixed on his green ones. Shrouded in the darkness with glittering purple strobe lights catching his stare, all she could see was the overwhelming emotion that had been laying on her tongue for weeks. 

Julie edged closer. “He said, she said: your body's a temple.” Lyrics uttered against his lips, causing them to quirk up. 

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered back. 

She grinned. “That’s not the lyric.”

“I know. But you are.” His fingers combed through her curls, both their faces bare and illuminated. His expression was one she’d never forget. He looked young and old all at once. “I’m losing my mind, Jules.”

The words tumbled out, voice quieting down to a shy mutter. Had he not been so close, he wouldn’t have heard her. “I love you. Is that crazy enough?”

Luke’s lips captured hers, his strong arms around her neck. Electricity rippled up her spine, euphoria and relief colliding in her heart. “Fucking crazy,” he breathed. “I love you too.”) 

The napkin was hidden in her joggers on the way back to Flynn’s, during dinner, while rewatching The Bold Type, when they went to sleep. Julie cried again. Flynn let them flow. Julie missed him. She missed him, she missed him, she missed him, she needed him to hold her, she needed him to hug her, she needed him. She needed to roll to her left and feel his arm and curl into it, she needed the ache to stop and the only one that could fix it was Luke. 

But was loving enough? Was it enough it there was a chance they’d fall into the same habits? 

Her wails were stifled by the paisley pillows. She wanted to throw them out the window. 

(“This is the 650 square feet apartment we’ve talked about over the phone.” Jess unlocked the door with the smoothness only a realtor agent could possess, the gentle _click_ giving Julie the gut feeling this might be the one. The woman shot the pair a smile. “Sure, the elevator needs to repaired, but _wait_ until you see the view.”

Luke’s lips found her ear. “They’re never gonna fix that elevator, huh?”

“Yup,” she chuckled. “The stairs is our cardio.”

All three stepped inside. The apartment was like the pictures. Small, yet spacious and staged like a hotel. It held no personality yet, but with some colour and music and the smell of food and-

“Wow,” Luke exclaimed, rushing to the large windows. “Jess, I thought you were just buttering us up!”

She tucked her folder under her arm with a smile. “No. You guys were smart to start looking for a place now. The neighbourhood hasn’t been hit yet with the rich and famous. Pretty cheap price for the view you’re getting.”

Julie followed his path to the window, awestruck by the unbridled scope of nature. Somehow, they’ve found one of the few apartment buildings in Los Angeles with a wide view of the ocean. She imagined what it would be like. Early mornings, before either was in the studio or at their parttime job, sitting on the balcony sipping their coffees as their bodies were being cleansed by the fresh, ocean air. Being lulled to sleep by the crashing waves and Luke’s warm embrace. Maybe they could even start surfing, something they’ve been continuously talking about. 

He plucked it out of her mind. “We can finally start surfing, Julie! There are legit no excuses.”

She bit her lip, whirling to look back at the apartment. Her shadow flickered across the old parquet. Slowly, her imagination began to piece it together, vanishing the sterile pieces and replacing them with a comfy couch and her books blending with his in a bookcase they’d inevitably find on a flea market. Their collection of CD’s and vinyls in crates by the large stereo system she stole from home. Plants, littered everywhere. A smile grew, catching Luke’s eye in excitement. 

“I can see it,” she admitted. “Let’s see the bedroom - don’t make that joke.”

He raised his hands with a laugh. “I wasn’t going to make a joke!” But then- “How did you know I was gonna make that joke?”

Her hand slipped into his with a simpering grin. “Just a guess.”

Jess let them see the bedroom and bathroom alone. They were super small, but both found the main living space made up for it. The fridge with ice cubes was a bonus, added Luke. It hit her like a truck when they silently took in the bedroom. This would be theirs, she realised. They would pay rent together because they would be living together because they loved each other and this bed would be theirs, by morning and by night and every hour in between. Julie was twenty. How did she end up here? 

Luke caressed her knuckles. An absentminded thing he did. He loved her too. He was going into this just as blind. All she had to do was trust they’d figure it out together - like everything else they’ve done. 

“Can I say something else?”, he whispered. 

She squeezed his hand. “Of course.”

His smug face got in front of her, leaning down to her level. “I _cannot_ wait to wake you up every day with my annoying ass alarms.”

Closing the small distance to kiss him, the smile melted to fit her lips. “I look forward to it,” Julie giggled. “Cause this is it, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned. “This is it.”)

The brass ‘5H’ still looked like it did forty-eight hours ago. Slightly crooked, a shiny burned orange - the same scratches it had when Jess showed the apartment for the first time two years ago. Julie wondered if Luke was inside and if he was, if he knew she has been standing there for five minutes. It was early afternoon when Julie finally grabbed life by the balls and went for it. The car ride was an unfortunately quick twenty minutes (Really LA? _Now_ you had to get efficient?) and soon she was walking up the familiar stairs with the dark green tiles and walls eroded from lingering seasalt. 

5H mocked her. _This is where you and Luke broke up, you bitch!_ This is where she hurt him with her spirals of art mania, where he hurt her dismissing her own feelings. This little box held so much fucking beauty and love and pain and it scared her. She hasn’t even touched the frame.

Was loving enough?

Her key budged in the keyhole, like always, and she once more held her breath wondering if he heard her. Slowly, she turned it. Once, twice, budge budge, open.

The apartment was empty. Her teeth bit down on her trembling lip, key clenched in her fist. It hasn’t changed either. He hasn’t gone on a rampage and broke stuff; not that she expected him too anyway. The tulips she bought three days ago were still in their pink vase, the music collection was still intact, a few vinyls shuffled around, their halfway burned candles were still halfway. It was as if nothing had transpired. The dishes were washed though. She wasn’t sure if she deserved that.

Cautiously, as if everything would disappear if she breathed too audibly, she hung her jacket on the hook next to the door and placed the key on the kitchen table. Her eyes wandered to the bottle green couch, a steal at vintage store both instantly fell in love with. She remembered hearing him gasp and her following with one of her own seconds later. He had grabbed onto her hand and pulled her on the couch with him. She had snuggled into him, pretending to put a tv on and playfully asking if he wanted to ‘Netflix and chill’. To them, it was the biggest joke ever - as if they could ever be anything casual! 

Her fingers brushed the back of the couch, frozen in place. She had no clue what to do. Her expectation had been to see Luke in the living room and have her transform into this badass boss babe ‘speaking her truth’ and solve this stage of limbo once and for all. But he wasn’t here and she wasn’t a badass boss babe. She was just Julie.

Shit. What if he wasn’t ready and forgot to tell her? He might be at Alex and Willie, or Reggie. Should she call them? Julie cringed. Though they were all best friends, Luke was their brother. Soul-brother, as Reggie loved to claim. Luke always gravely nodded when he did, slinging his arm over his shoulder and swearing that they were separated at birth. The fact that they looked nothing alike unfazed them. The point was that she wasn’t even sure if they’d pick up. When it came down to it, she was just the girlfriend. The ex-girlfriend that told him she never wanted to be with him again. 

No. She couldn’t call them. 

Suddenly, the toilet flushed. Five seconds and one meltdown later, Luke appeared from around the corner. He froze. The air got sucked out the room. It was as if seeing a stranger trespass in your home. 

Their home, which they christened with red wine that instantly left a stain on the floor. The trail of sand by the balcony which held their boards, where they’ve talked until the early hours about everything and nothing overlooking the ocean. Their home, where she told him on the kitchen floor that she’d marry him. Where he told her that, if he had a ring, he’d ask her right now. They hadn’t been tipsy enough to exaggerate. How after, they loved each other a little harder in the darkness of their bedroom. She knew about the foundation marks on the bathroom mirror and what cupboard held his favourite cereal. She knew that if she shited slightly to the left, the floorboards would creak. And Luke looked at her like she was a stranger. 

Julie tracked his physique. The unshaved scruff, the red-rimmed eyes, his slouch, one AirPod in. Knowing she did that ached her - then again, she couldn’t look much better. 

It was too much. They were in the exact same position as they were two nights ago. Him close to their bedroom, her by the couch. Getting into each other’s faces and pushing who could cut the hardest. It was her, obviously, and the similarities to the moment glared her in the face. Did he think she’d start screaming again? Round two? 

“Hey,” he uttered. His voice was hoarse. He coughed and tried again, as if she wouldn’t have heard him in the complete quietude. “Hey.”

Whatever she meant to say evaporated. “I thought you weren’t home.”

He pulled out the AirPod and stuffed it in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Yeah.”

The tension was suffocating. Was loving enough? Were all the memories enough to pull them through the trenches? Did the good outweigh the bad? Did she deliberately ignore the bad times and perhaps forgot so much other shit that has transpired? Julie didn’t know. She had no clue. She was twenty-two. She shouldn’t be in this position. Was this what Flynn meant? Spreading her wings and flying into the land of single people for a bit?

The question pounded in her head. Was loving enough? Was loving enough? 

“Was loving enough?” It blurted out without meaning to. Luke stilled, eyes wide and troubled with unshed tears. A shuddering breath left her. “Is, I mean. Is it enough? Because-” The rest choked. A stone wedged itself in her throat, ribcage shrinking and her grasp on the couch tightening. It was barely audible: “Because… I don’t know anymore.”

“Julie-” He took a careful step forward and it took everything inside of her to not simply close the distance and barrel herself into his arms. To feel his warmth and body and pretend all was okay. 

“Do you?” She watched as he took another step. “Do you know?”

“I don’t want to break-up, Julie.” His gravelly reply made her mind burst at the seams, yanking her in all directions. He sighed and scrubbed the wetness from his cheekbones. “I don’t- I never want to break-up.”

“Luke.” Her voice dropped, like it always did when she called him out on his bullshit. “You hated it when I had my phases.”

“And I still love you,” he shrugged. 

Anger flared up. She kicked her foot, the creak of the floor finally heard. “But is it _enough?!_ Because we did fight! We did break-up!”

It spurred him on too, taking large strides until the delicate veil of calmness shattered. His lips jutted out into an spitting exclaim. “Julie! That-” He pointed at little the space between them, as if he’d conjure the scene and replay it. “-was _not_ a break-up. That was… that wasn’t- it was just yelling.” 

He huffed, incredulous. “It was just _yelling.”_

It made her want to shout. It made her want to hurt more. She was so confused. The overwhelming love she felt for him equalled the heartache she felt and she didn’t want to possibly go through it again. She refused. Was that selfish? 

The truth seemed like the best place to start. “I didn’t want to break-up. What I said to you, I didn’t mean it.” And then the first hit began. “But we can’t keep… hurting each other. Because I hurt you, Luke. And you hurt me.”

“And you don’t think we can fix that? That we can change? You said so yourself, Jules. We’re not the same eighteen year olds anymore.”

No, because Julie wasn’t so fucking naive anymore. This Julie wouldn’t allow herself to drown in a pretty smile and dreamy eyes and be swept up with the fingerpicking of a guitar. Old Julie _did_ and regretted nothing. Looking at each other now, she wasn’t sure if they could transform again. If she could go from jaded to whimsical again. If she even wanted to. 

“What if we outgrew each other?”

His eyes averted, jaw clenched. “I didn’t. I could never outgrow you.”

“How do you _know?”,_ she pleaded, frustrated at the conviction in his tone. “How do you know we’re not just… comfortable? Comfortable and dealing with the hurt cause- I- I don’t know.”

He paused, gaze flicking back up and let the doubt flicker behind the green. “Do-” A gulp hitched, pain contorting his features. She wanted to reach over and smooth it with a thumb or a kiss. “Do you _want_ to stay broken up?”

The incessant tears spilled, chest hunched from the ache in her lungs and then crying even more when his face crashed at the sight. Without a second of hesitation, he yanked her into his embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said and I didn’t- I don’t want to break-up. I love you. But I’m so-”

“Scared,” he finished for her, shaky. His trembling hands clutched onto her so tightly it should’ve hurt had she not been trying to focus on breathing. His nails curled into her back with a choked shudder. “I’m scared too.”

Her lips rolled in, each word warbled with emotion. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Can we-” He inhaled deeply, burrowed in her neck. “Can we first agree we aren’t broken up? Cause I- Julie, I can’t-”

She pressed herself harder into his chest, listening to the fast tempo of his heartbeat. The rush of being connected again brought colour to her cheeks. Her soul felt a little less splintered. 

“We’re not broken up,” she whispered. “We were never broken up.”

Their bodies simultaneously slumped, all tension evaporating like smoke and clinging onto each other as they dropped to the floor. Her hands found his cheeks, not quite ready to kiss him but to _hold_ him - God, to hold him. His skin was cold beneath her touch. Hers must’ve been freezing too. Luke was more frenzied, unsure where to let himself linger. Brushing her curls, jaw, temples. Repeat. Julie remembered the first time he did that, when she made a nasty hit against the water after getting flung from her board. She had been fine, if a bit bruised on her hipbone, but he had been close to losing it. Until late, his eyes tracked her frame over and over again. When she had asked him what was wrong, he told her the truth. 

_“I’m memorising you.”_

And now he was doing it again. Only this time, she didn’t injure herself. 

“Stop that,” she hissed, holding back another wave of tears. A smile struggled its way up her lips. “I’m here.”

“How do we fix this, Julie? Is me stopping that stupid shit I did with fans enough for you?” It wasn’t said accustory, but desperate. His hands finally found solace on her neck, thumbs caressing the skin. 

Was it? Would it heal the betrayal of seeing him flash a smirk and a wink and have him later call it ‘upkeeping parasocial relationships’? “Only if you mean it,” she heard herself say. “Only if you’re also doing it for yourself, not just me. Do _you_ want to stop doing that?”

“I do,” he rushed out. “It means nothing and it never meant anything and I just- I guess I got carried away. But that doesn’t excuse it. I know that. I should’ve seen it sooner.”

“I should’ve told you better.”

Luke shook his head. “No… it’s common fucking sense. I was an idiot.”

Julie swallowed back the fear brimming every atom in her body and dared to ask him the same question. “Is me stopping that stupid spiral enough for you?”

He hesitated. “You write your best during those.”

“Be honest, Luke.” This is what brought them into this mess in the first place. Lies wrapped in sweet words and earnest smiles. Why loving hadn’t been enough. “ _Please._ ”

His eyes hardened, another puff erupting from his throat and wiping a lone tear away. Finally, he put it out bluntly. “Getting ignored for days fucking sucks. Seeing you completely unravel for some lyrics fucking sucks, Jules. I hate it. It’s bullshit.”

Julie nodded, something akin the first signs of catharsis relieving the weight in her bones. “It is,” she uttered.

She knew how destructive the behaviour was. All she had to was find another way to write in a productive manner without blowing up her relationship. And she was willing to find that. She was willing to tread upon unknown paths - perhaps have writer’s block for a little - if it meant she would never hurt Luke like that anymore. Magnetically, her lips found his forehead, kissing the stressed wrinkle away. He leaned into her with a sigh, touch dropping to her shoulders and pulling her closer. 

“I’m sorry how neglectful I get when I do.” Her eyes were trained on his. He had to know she meant every word. “I want to try for myself and for you to find a different way.” 

“You will,” he stressed. She hoped he was right. 

For a beat, they quietly revelled in the sensation of being with each other. The gentle press of their foreheads, how naturally they evened their breathing, how his lips ghosted hers. It still held questions though, Julie awaiting them patiently. The ticking time bomb that had broken her down in a numbing dread, was waning. Waiting, Julie found, might be the most beautiful thing in the world right now. 

And then he said it: “And what if all that isn’t enough?”

Julie knew she loved Luke three months into dating. They were in his car and he was aimlessly driving around. They just got a load of new CD’s from the store and wanted to listen to them all, looping through all the neighbourhoods of LA with each their own soundtrack. Frank Sinatra, Pearl Jam, The Cranberries, Eurythmics, Billy Joel (obviously), Aretha Franklin. Aretha has always had a special place in Julie’s heart, though Luke didn’t know that at the time yet. ‘Think’ was a song she and her mom used to dance to. No matter where they were or how they were feeling that day, the track could play and all worries were pushed aside to enjoy the few minutes of bliss. 

She told him the story. It wasn’t particularly sad nor did it dampen the mood. He stayed quiet and listened and after, he clicked on the first track of the album and put it on full blast. 

There was no time for questions, Luke opening his mouth and belting along to the lyrics. He grabbed her hand from across the console and jostled it around. It urged her to sing with him, louder and brighter and harder. Each time the “Freedom!” came, her heart felt like the burning embers of a fire. _She_ was burning with a passion she hadn’t found in something other than performing, ever. 

But right now with Luke, uncaring whether or not she sounded good, she felt it. Julie wanted to say it was like the stars aligned and angels began to sing or even that her mother’s voice whispered in her ear. None of that happened. 

Luke glanced over at her, locking smiles, and she realised that her heartbeat has syncopated to make place for him. It was the first time she heard it. 

It was as simple as that. Julie chose him. Luckily, he chose her too. 

“I’m in love with you, Luke,” Julie declared, a truth as simple as the existence of the universe. “And _that_ is enough. I choose to love you, I choose to be with you, I choose everything.” A smile stretched on her cheeks, those embers from years ago fluttering like a wildfire. “You’re right. We’re not the same people and yet here we are.”

His smile rivalled hers, so bold she envied it. That sliver of unapologetic affection hung on the edges, like: _Yeah, I love you - what about it?_ She tried to keep herself from kissing him, except by the time she was done talking, she has found her place on his lap. He held her tight, one circled around her waist and the other cupping her jaw. 

“I choose you,” he whispered. Memorising again, now for reasons she well understood. Julie wanted to remember the look on his face forever. “I’ve chosen you… I’ve always chosen you.”

Their giddy smiles, cheeks sticky from tears, met in a soft kiss. It was far from perfect; clumsy and emotional and too exhausted from nearly losing each other, but Julie wouldn’t want it any other way. He pecked her again when she pulled back. And again and again and again. The kiss turned languid, softening to feel that undercurrent of passion it always had. She was fully pressed against Luke, the idea of make-up sex chiming in the back of head.

They would talk and listen about the smoking and the dishes and her shoes tomorrow. The euphoria of allowing each other to keep loving was greater than the need to discuss it right now. 

“I kind of like the scruff,” she heaved. “It’s hot.”

Luke bit his lip, nuzzling his nose in her cheek. “Yeah? You like my depressed facial hair?”

Her fingers scratched it with a sweet grin. “Yeah.” 

An annoyed mewl came from their bedroom door, nails against wood. 

“Oh, thank God you’re back,” Luke breathed, head rolling back. “Bowie was being such a bitch without you here.”

Julie laughed and kissed him again. 

She’d tell him about her aimless drive and the song she wrote and her time at Flynn’s and the paisley sheets. She’d tell him everything and he would do the same. They’d find ways to be better for each other, but more importantly: themselves. They’d even discover a new song to make Theirs. A couple’s ‘song’ could change too. 

They would do all of that. 

For now, they’d sign their names in kisses on that dotted line, right beneath “I choose you.” For now, that singular promise was enough. They had a lifetime to figure out the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> music:  
> \- ‘It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me’ + 'Vienna' by Billy Joel  
> \- 'Leave me Lonely' by Ariana Grande ft. Macy Gray  
> \- 'Rumors' by Sabrina Claudio ft. ZAYN  
> \- 'Think' by Aretha Franklin 
> 
> The entire atmosphere is "Je te laisserai des mots" by Patrick Watson 
> 
> I'm not entirely satisfied with the ending, but what's new. me + proper endings = crash and burn. Maybe because I don't quite know the answer myself. Is loving someone enough to make a relationship work? Or maybe, it's just five am and I need to go to bed. Oof. Thanks for reading!


End file.
